


bang bang, baby

by tenderthings



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Another AU nobody asked for, Buddy Cop AU, Fictober 2017, Gen, Purple Hawke, Red-Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderthings/pseuds/tenderthings
Summary: Of all the cafés in all the cities in all the world, Hawke had to steer a car into his favorite. Oh, well.(in which i wrote a pseudo-buddy cop AU? yes.)





	bang bang, baby

 

* * *

 

Varric Tethras, freelance journalist and serial novelist extraordinaire, cannot remember the last time he’s so many uniforms in one place. Granted, there was the yearly parade and the occasional protest, but neither of the two were as much as fun as this. Even a regiment of Templars had been called out; they were geared up to the nines and ready for a riot. In truth, it was just a little bit of Lowtown madness that had bulldozed its way into the nicer side of town. As a result, various city departments had been brought together in a frantic, if hilarious panic.

And it had been such a quiet night, too.

Varric finds Hawke amongst the bodies quickly enough. She’s hunched over on a curb with her head in her hand and her badge on the ground. She was dripping wet and seeming particularly defeated, which was never a good look on her.

She barely spares him a glance as he walks over, carrying two cups of coffee and a space blanket a paramedic kindly passed him.

Without a word, she takes the foam cup he offers and sips, sneering. It’s diner coffee and therefore awful, but it’s better than nothing.

She hasn’t been attended to yet, which is understandable, considering the chaos abounding around them—and the fact that she is at fault for it.

Varric whistles, setting down his own cup so he can wrap the space blanket around her slumped frame.

“This is impressive, Hawke, even for you,” he says and gives her a pat on the back.

She lets out a long, drown-out sigh and continues to sip.

Dozens of police, fire fighters, and EMTs continue to scramble on the road. First-responders have already created a parameter to keep back the tide of spectators and reporters—spare for Varric, he has “privileges”—but so much had happened, they might as well tape off the entire block.

The flashing of blue and red against the brownstone apartment blocks cast an ugly scene in what was otherwise a very tranquil neighborhood. Varric liked to come down here for lunch when he had the time, but evidently his favorite cafe had the misfortune of getting in the way of a black mustang.

It was also on fire.

He’s been told that it was a high-stakes police chase. He believes it, but not in the way the cop he spoke to meant it.

Sure, it was “high-stakes”, but more so in the sense of “structural damage” and “possible demotion” with a side of “media shitstorm”—the third of which Varric will have a light hand in.

Kirkwall PD would always make a poor job of hiding the damage, whatever it may be, but for Hawke, he’ll be nice.

“You think she’ll notice?” he says, taking a sip from his cup. (It really was awful coffee.)

“Notice what?” Hawke replies, tired. “The crashed car, the flipped police cruiser, or that fire hydrant?”

There was indeed a fire hydrant, though not so visible now. A civilian had crashed his car into it in attempt to avoid the chase and said car was now thoroughly wrapped around it. It was still spewing water but only a trickle now.

“No, the fact you caught the bad guys.”

He doesn’t have the details yet, but that paramedic he sweet-talked slipped up a very Rivani-sounding name. He’ll have to check his sources, but Hawke may have made the bust of the decade, structural mishaps be damned.

“Six months of surveillance, weeks of undercover work and it ends like  _this_.” She sighs again. For once, she was lacking her usual anarchistic, post-victory glow. “Maker, this city is a mess.”

She puts the cup down, letting it tip over with its contents drizzling into a storm drain, as she picks up her badge. She wipes off what Varric thinks is blood and stares at it, her thumb running over the plate.

It takes a moment for him to realize that it’s not hers. Her own is still latched to her belt, hidden by the blanket.

His gaze softens and he lays a hand on her shoulder, squeezing.

There had been no reported deaths despite the mayhem, but he did hear that one cop was seriously injured. At first, he was less than sympathetic—there was only a handful of decent police left in the city now—but Hawke always took these things especially hard.

“At least, smugglers aren’t very good shots,” she mutters, pocketing the badge.

He arches a brow, but says nothing.

Then, she looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Everything I just said is entirely off the books.”

“Of course.”

The two of them had an understanding, one that went back far before Hawke followed Aveline into law enforcement. Their glorious soon-to-be captain in question was currently doing damage control, as he and Hawke watched her.

As fair as he intends to be towards Hawke, Aveline cannot. The detective did in fact choose to give chase when she likely shouldn’t have, but they all know Hawke—at this point, the city  _knew_  Hawke. But this— _this_ was a first. The apartment above the cafe was still on fire.

Then, a second and seemingly undamaged hydrant went off and the entire street flinched, as the firemen began to sputter with their latched hoses.

Aveline glanced over at Hawke and, upon seeing Varric, gave them a very pointed look.

Hawke waved in return.

“Yeah,” Hawke says, “she noticed.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i want to write an honest to god buddy cop AU/B99 AU one day


End file.
